The Last Studebaker. Robin Hemley
day long, ringing it in a pathetic mouse frenzy.
Sometimes she rang the bell when she wasn't hungry and sometimes she refused to ring it, preferring to starve. But always, when he offered her some tidbit, she ate it greedily, even now.
Lois gave the cold knob a twist. As the water shot into the tub, she waved her hand back and forth along the surface, waiting for the water to reach the temperature Willy liked best, keenly aware of his touch on the back of her neck.
Willy wanted to be a strong lover. He made love like he was going for a world record in some sporting event, sometimes the javelin throw, other times the marathon, full of tortuous climbs and sweat and pacing, but not much action except for the last five hundred yards. Once she had asked him to tie her up, just to see what Willy's reaction would be. Willy asked her to repeat the question. She refused, but Willy wouldn't let it rest. He rummaged through the dresser drawers for suitable bindings, only turning up a package of shoelaces. He left the room and returned half an hour later with a pair of jumper cables. By this time Lois felt bored and tired. “A jump's not going to do it for me,” she told him. “My battery's completely shot. Let's just go to sleep.”
Maybe they should have been making love in the bathtub all along, Lois thought now. Suddenly, neither of them was sleepy. Willy leered like a pirate, his heavy beard dripping with water and his eyes bloodshot. “Unhand me, sir,” she said in a fainting voice. He responded by dunking his head under water and blowing bubbles into her belly button. She screamed and laughed and Willy grabbed her hips and slid her farther into the water, some of which poured down her throat. She came up gagging and choking. She put her hands on his shoulders and said, “Wait, Willy,” between coughs. Willy didn't seem to notice. He thrashed and grabbed her by the rear, kneeling and lifting her halfway out of the tub, one of the old kind with claw feet. Her shoulders rode the porcelain rim, and her arms dangled over.
The water still felt too hot. Willy surged against her and the water made slapping sounds between them. A wave sloshed on the floor. She didn't know if he held her anymore and she became afraid she'd slip and drown. This was too fierce. She thought he might tip her out of the tub. She looked in his eyes and saw that he wanted to make up for things by doing this.
She saw herself sliding down some chute away from him. Bile climbed her throat, but she forced it down. She took him by the shoulders and sunk her nails into his skin. She lifted her chin and Willy brought his mouth to her neck. Now he looked at her again, his whole face wet and shining, but then he gave his head a violent twist, buried his face in her breasts, and pulled her against him.
In that brief look she read a lot. She filled in the blank, said what she thought he might have said, whispered it directly into his ear so there'd be no mistake. Willy took a handful of lukewarm water and dripped it slowly between her breasts, like a boy making a sand castle. She felt all the troubles between them beading off her. When she stepped out of the tub and dried off, the troubles would be gone, soaked into the towel. The next day she'd go out and burn it.
Lois dressed, watching Willy toss in the sheets, the covers bunched over on his side. Sitting down, she pulled the sheet away I from him. She remembered how few hairs he'd had on his chest when they were first married, and how she used to annoy him by counting them after they made love. “There's a new sprout,” she had said. “I'm putting hairs on your chest.” More than anything, Willy had always hated being made fun of, though she hadn't meant it that way. He could make fun of others, but when it came to himself he was humorless. Still, she thought it would be fun to have a contest now for the family. Guess how many hairs Willy has on his chest. The winner gets…what? Unconditional love. Forgiveness: now, then, and in the future.
“One, two, three, four,” she said.
Willy sat straight up in bed.
“It's all right,” she told him. “You just grew another hair. There's a forest down there now.”
Willy covered his chest with his hand, and Lois saw he was still dreaming, unsure of what dangerous world he'd come into.
He pressed his hand to his forehead and said, “Is this my head? Who put the elephant head on my body?”
“I think you have Jim Beam to blame for that head,” Lois said.
“Son of a bitch. I'll hunt him down. He'll pay.” He looked at her unclearly and sagged back down.
“You take it easy,” Lois said. “I'll fix breakfast.”
“What time is it?” he said, reaching around the bed for his watch. He found it and squinted. “Move,” he said, standing up and forcing her off the bed. “I've got to be somewhere.” Willy grabbed the bedsheet and wrapped it around him.
“Where do you have to be on Sunday morning?” Lois said. “Have you turned devout all of a sudden?”
“Where are my socks?” Willy said, staring at her as though she should know.
She saw them at the foot of the bed and picked them up. Each sock was in a little ball. She threw them into the hallway.
“Hey,” Willy said, reaching for her and stumbling over the bedsheet.
The rest of Willy's clothes were piled on a chair by the door. She grabbed them and walked across the room. “Give them here,” he said.
“Not until I see you naked.”
“Stop fooling around, Lois. I've got to take a shower. I've got to get rid of this elephant head.”
“I'm afraid you were born with it,” she said. “As far as the shower goes, we can take one together.”
“No we can't,” he said.
“We took a bath last night,” she said.
“Okay, then you should be satisfied.”
“You might as well drop the sheet, Willy. I'm going to see you naked one way or another.”
“No you're not,” he said. “Now give me my clothes.”
Normally Willy could have grabbed the clothes with no problem, but in his weakened state he moved ponderously.
“Give them here,” he said wearily, reaching out with one hand while the other held the sheet in place.
“Don't be embarrassed,” Lois said. “I'm your ex-wife.”
“That's right,” he said. “You're my ex.”
“All of a sudden you're a prude, Willy? What's up?”
“Nothing's up,” he said, taking a step toward her.
She backed away and opened the bedroom window. She threw Willy's clothes outside, trying to arc them past the second-floor eaves. His pants and shirt sailed into the front yard. His underwear caught in the gutter, along with one of his shoes. The other shoe hit the corner of the window and bounced back inside. She picked the lone shoe up and threw it as far as she could, but didn't wait to see where it landed.
“Now nothing's up,” she said, clasping her hands together and smiling at him like the devoted wife. “Would you like patty or link sausage with your eggs?” she asked.
Willy didn't say a word. He started walking out of the room with the sheet wrapped around him.
Lois followed him and grabbed the sheet and wouldn't let go. “That's my sheet,” she said. “Where do you think you're going with it?”
Willy turned around and said, “I'm going to get my clothes.”
“Stay here,” she said, trying to yank the sheet away.
“I'm going to the barn and get dressed. I was supposed to meet Alice for brunch at Tippecanoe Place and now I'm going to be late because of you.”
That stopped her and she let go. “Tippecanoe Place?” Lois said. Lois had never even eaten there. This had been the seat of the Studebaker family wealth, a massive forty-room mansion made of granite, with Romanesque arches, towers, and verandas. Now the building